Part 3 (2/2)
”Make 'em stand up, referee,” a Montreal man insists.
Again and again the McGill captain appeals to the referee, who remonstrates, urges, and finally orders the 'Varsity to get up or be penalised.
Campbell perceives that something must be done. He moves Shock from the centre to the left wing of the scrimmage and calls in Martin and Bate from half.
By this time every 'Varsity man is on his feet, for he knows that Shock is about to lead the ”screw” and before the scrimmage is well formed the McGill stone wall is broken, and Campbell is boring through it with the bat, gaining a good ten feet and by a quick re-form ten more.
”Man, man, take heed. Yon's a dangerous game, I'm thinking,” murmurs Shock's mother anxiously, to the amazed amus.e.m.e.nt of Lloyd, who replies, ”Why, Mrs. Macgregor, you seem to know the game as well as the rest of us.”
”Ay, Hamish has often showed me the working of the screw, and it is not to be depended upon in a place like yon.”
The 'Varsity team breathe freely again and go in with new vim, while McGill settles down on the ball to recover steadiness.
But the 'Varsity captain has seen the screw work and resolves to try it again. Once more he move Shock to the wing, signals to the quarters, and again the Montreal stone wall is demoralised. But instead of Campbell boring over the prostrate form of his big centre with the ball the McGill captain, securing it, pa.s.ses to Carroll, his quarter, who das.h.i.+ng off as a feint to the right, pa.s.ses far across the field to Bunch on the left.
Bunch as usual is in his place, catches beautifully and is off down the field like a whirlwind, dodging one, knocking off another, running round a third, till between him and the goal line he has only the half back, Martin, and the full.
The McGill people go wild again. ”Bunch! Bunch!” they yell frantically, crowding down the line after him. ”He's in! He's in!”
But not yet. Red Pepper is swiftly bearing down upon him, and as he comes within reach springs at him. But the wily Bunch has learned to measure that long reach, and dodging back sharply, he slips round Pepper and makes for the line ten yards away.
A long groan goes up from the 'Varsity support, while from a hundred McGill throats rises the cry again--”He's in! He's in! A touch! A touch!”
But close upon him, and gaining at every foot, is The Don, the fleetest man in the 'Varsity team. For half a second it looks as if Bunch must make the line, but within three yards of the goal, and just as he is about to throw himself toward it, Balfour shoots out his arm, grasps his enemy by the back of the neck, and turning round, hurls him back with terrific force to the ground and clambers on top of him. It is a fierce tackle, giving great satisfaction to all the 'Varsity supporters, but to none more than to Mrs. Macgregor, who, as she sees the unfortunate Bunch hurled to earth, exclaims with quiet satisfaction, ”That will be doing for ye, I'm thinking.”
”Isn't she a great old warrior?” says Lloyd aside, to the young ladies.
”The Don! The Don!” cry the 'Varsity contingent. ”We-like-Don!
We-like-Don!” they chant, surging across the corner of the field in the wildest enthusiasm.
”Keep back! Keep back! Give him air.” The referee, and the captains with their teams, push the crowd back, for Bunch is lying motionless upon the ground. ”It's simply a case of wind,” says little Carroll, the McGill quarter, lightly.
”The want of it, you mean,” says big Mooney, hauling Carroll back by the neck.
In a few minutes, however, the plucky McGill half back is up again, and once more the scrimmage is formed.
Gradually it grows more evident that McGill is heavier in the scrimmage, but this advantage is offset by the remarkable boring quality of the 'Varsity captain, who, upon the break up of a scrimmage, generally succeeds in making a few feet, frequently over Shock's huge body. As for Shock, he apparently enjoys being walked upon by his captain, and emerges from each successive scrimmage with his yellow hair fiercely erect, his face covered with blood, and always wreathed in smiles. No amount of hacking and scragging in a scrimmage can damp his ardour or ruffle the serenity of his temper.
”Isn't he ghastly?” exclaims Lloyd to the young ladies at his side.
”Perfectly lovely!” cries Betty in return.
”Ah, the old story of the bloodthirsty s.e.x,” replies Lloyd. ”h.e.l.lo, there goes half time,” he adds, ”and no score yet. This is truly a great game.” Eagerly the men are taken charge of by their respective attendants, stripped, rubbed, slapped, and sponged.
Up come Shock and Brown. The blood on Shock's face gives him a terrifying appearance.
”Oh!” cries Helen anxiously, ”you are hurt.”
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